scattered among the stars
by icybluedepths
Summary: They're 26 and 25 years old when their paths cross again. Ian dropped below the radar and became an M16 agent while Amy became the Madrigal Branch Leader. When he discovers a rogue Madrigal stealing files from the M16, he seeks Amy out for her help. "So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"
1. Chapter 1

SCATTERED AMONG THE STARS

They're 26 and 25 years old when their paths cross again. Ian dropped below the radar and became an M16 agent, while Amy became the Madrigal Branch Leader. When he discovers a rogue Madrigal stealing files from the M16, he seeks Amy out for her help. "So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"

Rated T for swearing and potentially **hinted** adult content later on.

 **(As of 12th Aug 2016, I am no longer Amber-Raven-Cahill. My pen name has been changed to icybluedepths.)**

CHAPTER 1

"Nobody sees, nobody knows/We are a secret, can't be exposed"

\- Zara Larsson, _Uncover_

 _/_

December 19th 2015, 0100

"Ma'am? This is Guard Lionel Stuart, calling in from Tower 2."  
"Yes?"

"Ma'am, there's a man… a drunk man that is around our premises. He's… shouting very loudly."  
"What is he shouting?"

"Your name, ma'am."

"What does he look like?"

"I can't quite tell, but it looks like he has black hair, tanned skin and rather odd eyes, if I may say so myself – they look yellowish, but I can't really see in the dark."

"Would you describe them as amber?"

"Yes! Yes, that's the word, ma'am."

"Thank you. Leave him there. I'll call back as soon as I can once I decide."

"Yes, ma'am."

Amy Cahill put down the phone and sat up on her bed, looking out of the window her back turned to when she sat at her table. It was a beautiful window – a sophisticated black frame that screamed _money_ , the glass polished so brightly that in the day it gave her a headache when she looked at it sometimes.

The window, like everything else, gave her nothing but pure irritation.

It was one in the morning! One does not simply begin shouting one's name at _one in the morning_! Amy felt nothing but irritation at this man who had disturbed her sleep.

She quickly corrected herself. No, he wasn't 'this man'. _You know him._

It was too easy to figure out who this mysterious man was – much, much too easy. From the guard's description, there was only one man she knew that fit the given description.

Sighing, she picked up the phone again and rubbed her eyes; coughing slightly to remove the dry scratchy throat she always felt waking up _so goddamn early_ _without_ _any warning at all or – god forbid – coffee. I want my coffee!_

"Pick him up. Then send him to the interrogation room in thirty minutes. There's no need to handcuff him. I'll be there soon."

/

Ian Kabra awoke to a white room.

He looked around. It was white, white, _white_ …

Ian's amber eyes were swollen and red, his face typically that one would find on a severely drunken man who had no idea where he was, no idea what he was doing and no intention at all of trying to leave.

Nobody was in the room with him. Ian tried not to seem too pleased for a drunken man.

When Amy walked in, he adopted the same look again.

"Ian."

"Mmmwargh…"

" _Ian_."

This was really far too much fun. "Kowaishk…aheriuv…drwuf… more beer!" He risked opening his eyes fully to see her expression.

Oh, this really was too much fun. It was harder not to laugh than to actually keep this pretence up.

"Ian Kabra. What are you doing here, _drunk_?"

"To see you, of course." He leaned forward while swaying a little, looking up at her with the best smoulder he thought a drunk man would be able to muster.

To his absolute disappointment, Amy didn't react as he thought she would. Or rather, _hoped_ she would. "Very funny, Ian."

He settled back into his chair, dropping the façade as he sat up straight and placed his elbows on the iron table that stood between them. "Hello, Amy."

She smirked. "I was wondering when you'd stop lying, you know," she told him, "or did you actually think you had me tricked?"

 _Say you knew, fool!_ "Of course not. I was wondering when you'd tell me to stop." Feeling emboldened when she said nothing, he leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table before drawling, "And what makes you think I was lying?" He sat back to his chair, amber eyes tracking her movements lazily.

The redhead flushed the same colour as her hair. At his words, a feeling stirred up in her lower abdomen, hot and uncomfortable.

His eyes darkened.

 _Damn you, Ian Kabra,_ she thought furiously, _damn you and your open collar and your stupid eyes and your -_

Ian, noting her anger and how uncomfortable she looked, took the initiative to break the silence. "So, how's everything?"

Her eyes flashed, and she stood up sharply, the motion quick and angry. "You would know – how dare you."

"How dare I _what_ , exactly? Do elaborate."

The Madrigal walked over to the shorter side of the table, bracing a hand against it while the other held something beyond his vision.

She didn't bother answering his question.

"You've been doing well for yourself, Ian," she hissed, throwing down a file with his photo paper clipped to it. "M16, wow- two years of 'outstanding service in the field'. Hey, a few decorated medals or two... look at that. Having fun in your new life?"

Ian swallowed painfully but he said nothing.

She narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were dead, you know. We all did. _Natalie_ did."

At the mention of his sister, an old wound ripped apart, leaking blood and salty tears. _Don't you dare, Ian._ "Is she here?" he asked, not looking at her. He hated the way his voice cracked while saying it.

Amy raised an eyebrow at this unprecedented display of affection for his sister, but she answered the question anyway. "No, she's not," she said carefully, watching the way his hands curled in on themselves. "She's with Nellie, in Europe. Holidaying."

Oh. So Natalie had listened after all and not gone looking for him. She was safe, then. Ian didn't know whether to feel relieved or betrayed. He settled for the first one.

"I see."

Amy scowled. "Back to the topic at hand," she snapped, pushing the file towards him until it almost touches his chest. "What are you doing here? Especially as an M16 agent?" She almost spat out the words, hateful and poisonous.

He turned to look at her, and she bit back this traitorous feeling stirring within her. His eyes were impossibly sad, the amber more piercing than usual, the quiet regret shining.

"I would have thought you, of all people, understood."

Her hands shook in anger. "Understood _what_?"

"Why I left the Lucian branch. Why I left the world of the Cahills."

She shook her head impatiently. "No. You wanted that position. I know you did."

He cocked his head, watching her strangely. "Ah. As sharp as ever, I see." Ian stretched, any trace of that odd remorse gone. "Yes, I did want that position. Yes, I left. So what?"

"I want to know why."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I _want_ to know, Ian. You were my friend. If there was anything troubling you, I would have known – "

"Ah, but that's the problem there. Aside from the fact that I'm a little hurt we're not still friends, but that's a problem for another time."

Ian stood up and took a step towards Amy. "If you were my friend, then you would have seen it."

She said nothing.

He continued. "You would have seen the things I was facing in the Lucian court. You would have offered to take Natalie in discreetly so that she wouldn't know, wouldn't have to face her elder brother's shame in being unable to control the bloody court that plotted to end the Kabra line and take over the position as Lucian head."

He took another step towards her. "So how dare _you_ , Amy Cahill, ask me why I left, because my first priority was to Natalie, and _they were going to kill her_!"

His shout resonated against the four walls.

Determined not to lose her composure, Amy simply raised an eyebrow and uttered two words: "I see."

Ian growled, and for a moment, Amy was genuinely scared – this wasn't the Ian she'd known before he left. That Ian had, at least, changed for the better and become a somewhat amicable person.

She steeled her nerves. "I will speak to you again in the morning," she said calmly. "Maybe tomorrow will be better. Should you require anything, please inform one of the guards."

Amy got up from the table. "Goodnight, Ian."

Ian, who had sat back down in his chair, ran a hand through his hair and leaned his elbow on the table, his head resting against his palm. A pause, a sigh, and then: "Goodnight, Amy."

Amy suppressed a wonderful feeling when he'd said goodnight back. _It's not right. It's not right._

She had not worked so hard to be respected as the Madrigal Branch Leader just to be brought down by one single interaction with him. She would _not_. She had changed – and she liked the new Amy better. The Cahills would never have accepted the stuttering, nervous, awkward Amy Cahill as one of the top five personnel of their world.

They had, however, accepted this clever, sharp, woman who knew what she was doing, who acted like leading was an innate part of her personality, who had been _born_ to lead.

No, she would not be brought down. She could not.

The sound of her heels clicked down the hallway and then became entirely impossible to hear.

 _/_

December 20th 2015, 0800

When Ian woke up, he found himself in a room with an ensuite washroom, a small sofa of sorts, and a television.

Oh, and not to mention the extremely plush, comfortable bed he was lying on. Tucked under thousand-count thread sheets, with a snug pillow under his head. Ian sighed and pulled the covers up further, tugging them past his shoulders. He felt two years old again. It was surprisingly great.

"Ian."

Amy had come calling. Taking care to poise himself with grace, he responded without opening his eyes, "Good morning, Amy. What would you like to do today?"

"Oh, I don't know – preferably not get a sore throat yelling at you all day long."

"Are you sure? I'd be perfectly happy with you yelling my name all day long."

"IAN!"

"Ah, there we go. What a lovely sound. Are you sure you don't want to go on?"

"I won't respond to that. Get your lazy butt off that bed now."

Ian sat up straight on the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the floor. "What should I do next?"

"Brushing your teeth would be good. And then maybe stop giving me so much trouble. Doing a few jumping jacks to occupy thine worthy time would be good."

"Of course."

To Amy's surprise, Ian actually got up and walked towards the bathroom. Moments later, she heard the tap running and the sound of brushing teeth.

He came out five minutes later, smelling clean and fresh and good and _oh my Lord_ , where was his shirt..?

Stop right there, Amy, she told herself. He's not yours to watch.

But his dark hair was graced with little beads of shining water, and when he used a white towel to dry it off, she could see the tendons of muscle stretching and relaxing; the strong planes of his tanned back –

Suddenly it was slightly difficult to breathe.

And then he turned around, towelling off the last drops of water from his hair, a questioning look in his eyes. Oh, he _knew_.

A long silence filled the air between them.

It's just hormones, Amy told herself fiercely. Just skin-deep attraction between a young man and woman. Completely normal. Nothing to worry about.

Ian broke the silence first. "So, where – " he cleared his throat. His voice had come out deep and rough, a slightly raspy quality to it. Clearing it again, he continued, "Where are we going?"

"I'm bringing you to see the Madrigal Council. If they see fit to clear you, then I'll bring you up during the Branch meeting in one month's time, which, if I remember correctly, will take place on the 26th of February, 2016."

Ian opened his mouth, and then closed it. "Are you serious? Amy, this is such a great development in our relationship – I'm important enough to be brought up in a Branch meeting! Perfect. Exactly what I wanted when hiding from the Lucian Branch. You did such a great job."

The Madrigal Leader scowled, glaring at him angrily. "Do you actually think I'm going to do that? It was a test. No, I'm not going to bring you to the Branch meeting. I'm twenty-five, not five."

Ian did his best to not blush irrevocably. So much for fancy M16 training, Kabra, he snapped internally. Now you've done it. She thinks you're a bloody fool. _Say something_!

"Well then. It was a good test. Now, I would really appreciate it if I were told where we're actually going." Indeed, as they had been speaking, Amy had begun walking, and Ian, like the good captive he was, had followed her.

"Don't push my patience. You shouldn't even be here. Keep silent and be grateful I'm not giving you to the Lucians right now," she replied.

"How do I know you're not taking me to them right now?" he challenged.

"Because you trust me."

Silence reigned for the rest of the walk.

 _/_

They were back in the interrogation room.

Ian groaned loudly, and Amy, sitting down on a chair on one side of the table, turned to glare at him. He smirked at her. She ignored whatever pesky… _feelings_ were stirring up within her.

"So, what are we here to do today?" Ian yawned, stretching up and out, arms coming back down slowly – a movement that was somehow so eminently masculine, Amy felt the irresistible urge to fan herself with the thin file lying atop the table in front of her. It was almost comical, this interaction between them, and the redhead fought the laughter threatening to bubble out.

"We're here to know why you came to us," she told him.

"How do you know I came to you? Maybe I'm just playing all of you," he replied suggestively.

Amy opened the file labelled _Ian Kabra_. "Stop flirting, Ian," she said dismissively. "It won't get you anywhere."

"Not even to your private quarters?"

She slammed the file shut and got up from the chair violently. "Shut up, Ian," she snarled. "I don't want any of your lies and tricks. I'm not here for that. You want to get into somebody's private quarters? Go find a nightclub and say your lines to someone who actually wants to hear them."

Taking a deep breath, Amy continued speaking in a calmer tone. "We are adults, therefore, we shall act like adults. Now," she finished, sitting back down in the chair, "what are you doing here, Agent Kabra?"

"I am here, Agent Cahill, because there has been a discovery of a rogue Madrigal agent who has possibly infiltrated the M16 organization and is, I believe, taking files from the database located at the M16 main base, and smuggling them back to his home.

"The files in question are not taken away for long; at most a day or two, but it is still a matter of utmost importance. That being said, I require your assistance as the Leader of the Madrigal Branch of the Cahills to remove this potential traitor from the M16, as there are numerous classified files in that database which may, if leaked to the general public, endanger national safety.

"Before you question why this physical database has not yet been uploaded to our current, modern database, allow me to explain. These secrets date back almost a hundred years, back to the First World War. Sensitive information such as this is better kept as a physical copy. Additionally, there are just too many files; this is not the only physical database the M16 has. The process is slow because it goes through many hands and many checking processes before it is finally uploaded digitally."

Amy blinked. "And how am I to help you?" she asked, barely a beat off.

"I will make you my office assistant. My work cover for my peers is a stockbroker. I return to the base only a few times a year, other than that, I have to work in an office like any normal person. Doing, of course, work unrelated to that of a stockbroker. Well. Mostly."

Ian leaned forward, his hands clasped together in front of him. His eyes were twinkling. Amy thought she could see a sliver of the person he had been before he'd defected from the Lucians.

"So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"

 _/_

 **A/N Many, many thanks to** **RivalArgentica** **for helping me look this over.**

 **And yes – it's a new multi-chaptered story! I hope you guys enjoy this :).**


	2. Chapter 2

SCATTERED AMONG THE STARS

They're 26 and 25 years old when their paths cross again. Ian dropped below the radar and became an M16 agent while Amy became the Madrigal Branch Leader. When he discovers a rogue Madrigal stealing files from the M16, he seeks Amy out for her help. "So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"

Rated T for swearing and potentially **hinted** adult content later on.

CHAPTER 2

"And in her smile, I see something more beautiful than the stars."

\- Beth Revis, _Across the Universe_

 _/_

" _So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"_

"Oh, that's hilarious, Ian," the Madrigal leader hissed. "Really? What the hell does that have to do with being your office assistant?"

Ian laughed. "I bought a new house."

"Good for you. _Explain_. _Now_ ," Amy seethed, her annoyance threatening to overflow and spill onto the floor. She could kill him, Amy decided, and she wouldn't feel the least bit of remorse.

Ian laughed. "We need to get into his house to steal the files back, correct? So how are we going to do that if the spy doesn't recognize you as familiar to the neighbourhood? We need to be subtle. And if you're going to move in with me, then you can either be my fiancée or my wife. Do I seem like the type of person to move in with my girlfriend before an absolute promise?"

"Yes."

The former Lucian drew back, placing a hand over his heart mockingly. "Oh, I feel so hurt, Amy," he shot back, watching her reaction closely.

The girl – no, _woman_ – in question was burning with anger. "Go on, Ian. Go on. See where that lands you. How do you feel about a floor for a bed tonight?"

"You know what would make a better bed? Yours."

"I haven't got time for this," groaned Amy angrily. "Just tell me. Please. This game is exhausting."

They both pretended she wasn't talking just about the matter at hand.

Ian cleared his throat. "Right. Back to business. As I was saying, it is much more convincing if you were to appear as a steady figure in the household. Then, if we're walking around the area together at unconventional times, it won't seem as unnatural."

Amy frowned. "But it'd seem unnatural if anybody was seen walking around at unnatural times."

"Still."

"Still _what_?" she snapped, hackles rising on end. "Do grace us with an answer."

" _Still_ , it would seem more logical – if I were to introduce you as my girlfriend, there might be a bit of disbelief. I have not, contrary to your apparent beliefs," he challenged, "been entertaining multiple mistresses at all times of the night. I told my co-workers and people around the neighbourhood that I have a long distance girlfriend who I'm planning to propose to. When I return to work, I can just say that I couldn't wait anymore and travelled to America, so in love that I just proposed."

"Oh, really? And people just believed that you were in love?"

"A long time ago, I think I might have been." He swallowed painfully and kept his eyes above her head. He tried not to think about how good it would feel to run his hands through her messy red hair, how much of a luxury it would be to -

 _No, Ian._

"And you're not, now?"

Ian frowned. "What?"

"In love, I mean," she clarified.

 _The game_ , she thought, _is_ on.

"Ah, but you never know. I might be. I might not." He leaned in closer. "What do you think?"

He tried his best not to think of _afterwards_ , and their lives after this mission. In a month or two, where would they be? Even if the mission dragged on longer, they'd still be stuck at this horrible, horrible impasse that separated the two of them.

Ian pretended not to see the way her pupils expanded, the slight hitch in her breathing and how that made him feel. The light, heady feeling that came over him – no, that fiery feeling stirring up low. The painful waiting. Now. Tomorrow. The rest of his life. The absolute uncertainty of their future.

What future?

More than ten years of knowing each other, and both of them knowing that they liked each other. That they might have been happier a long time ago.

But a long time ago was a long time ago, and this was now.

Ian pushed everything he felt for her away. She doesn't need to know, he told himself fiercely. She doesn't need to know. She doesn't need to know.

The Madrigal Leader and a defected Lucian M16 agent?

No, she shouldn't have to know. It would only make her sad. How pathetic you are, Ian, he thought.

They didn't have a bloody shot in the world anyway. What use was it telling her?

All of a sudden, the situation at hand came rushing back to the front of his mind, and he pummelled; packaged; boxed away what he felt. _Later_.

Silence.

And then she replied, "I accept."

Ian pushed his feelings down and didn't know whether to feel relieved or cry.

 _/_

December 23rd 2015, 2200

"I can't believe we're leaving so close to Christmas," Amy hissed, throwing a glare at the British male next to her. Who, by the way, was towering over her with that self-satisfied little smirk hung on his (very pretty, in Amy's opinion) face.

They were at the airport, awaiting their flight to England as an engaged couple living together.

This was going to be _so easy_. Too easy.

Amy resisted the urge to scream. The ugly _seriously good-looking, was he getting hotter by the second?_ M16 agent next to her was still smirking, and still silent.

The Madrigal Leader crossed her arms. "I still don't understand why we're not going to start the mission in early January. We're literally so close to Christmas! Why?"

"Because it'll look odd if I'm away for too long at work," came the reply.

"I was going to spend Christmas with _Dan_! And Nellie! I can't believe you."

"Believe it because you're spending Christmas with me."

"Yeah, but that wouldn't be as bad as spending Christmas with you as Amy _almost-Kabra_! Which we're going to do!"

"I see you've already begun calling me your husband. Don't worry, this works perfectly for me," he told her over his shoulder while moving forward in the line, dragging his suitcase in tow.

Yes, the _line_.

Amy did her very best not to laugh, smothering any hazardous giggles with her hand.

He'd matured. At least, Ian wanted to think he'd matured. Two years on your own doesn't allow much time for whining or complaining about the finer things in life.

He felt absurdly proud, so he said so. Obnoxiously.

Amy gritted her teeth and did her very best not to roll her suitcase over his toes when she caught up with him. _Come on, Amy_ , she thought, _you're the Madrigal Leader now! You're above this! You. Are. Above. This._

Well, she tried.

 _/_

The plane took off with a roar, and it didn't take long before Amy's surroundings faded into the background, ear-piercing screams becoming muted sounds, the engine's grumbling softening to a much more tolerable, gentle rumble.

Thank _God_ she had remembered to bring a book.

Settling down further into her seat, Amy adjusted the recline of her chair, and then pulled a blanket up around her. It was scratchy and uncomfortable, but still oddly soothing – the economy class flying, reading a book on the plane instead of working on her computer in business class – it was like the Clue Hunt all over again.

This time, with one of her worst enemies next to her, and not on the immediate flight afterwards, trying to catch up with them.

She paused. All this reminiscing was good and nice, but there was one problem to be addressed: _economy class_? Really, Amy? she scolded herself. _There's nothing wrong with flying economy class! Oh my God, you're turning into the Lucian over there. And that's_ not _a good thing. It's_ not _._

Sighing, she pulled the blanket up around her again, snuggling even further into the airplane seat, nose buried in the book again. She sat back up and dove for her bag, digging through it to look for her earplugs. Upon finding the desired equipment, she wriggled back down into the seat and flipped her book back to the page she had been at after sticking her earplugs in.

Amy read until she fell asleep.

 _/_

"Hello, sir, what would you like for a drink?"

Ian took off his headphones and leaned towards the air hostess speaking. "I didn't hear you, could you repeat?"

The lady smiled. "What would you like for a drink?"

He glanced at the push cart's offerings. _Apple juice, water, red wine…_

"I'll take the red wine."

She poured it for him carefully, Ian waiting slightly impatiently. He'd been watching a good movie.

"Thank you," he said curtly. He paused, turning his head to look at the Madrigal Leader next to him. Amy hadn't gotten anything – she was fast asleep. She was bound to be thirsty when she woke up.

He hesitated for a moment before tapping the air hostess lightly on her arm. "Excuse me, but can I have a glass of water? For the lady next to me," he explained.

"Of course," she replied, giving him the requested beverage. "You care very much for her, I see," the lady remarked.

He dared to reply. "Maybe."

So he was too much of a coward to actually _do_ anything. It had served him well, this subtle caring for people.

He set the water down on his own table precariously. He'd give it to her when she woke up, he decided.

 _/_

December 24th 2015, 0200

Ian looked over at the sleeping redhead next to him.

Her hair looked like it'd been through a washing machine, there was a little drool drying on the corner of her mouth, and quiet snores drifted through the air until the sound reached him. She was so beautiful it hurt. It _hurt_ to know that this was something he could never have.

He cut off his imagination at its knees. He was here to complete his mission. That was it. Nothing else. No ulterior motive. Nothing the Ian before the Clue Hunt probably would have done at his age.

It didn't matter.

How he so desperately wanted to explain to her what she meant to him; what she _had_ meant to him during those two lonely years of solitude. How he had watched her blossom into the clever, confident woman everyone saw now. How he had questioned himself a thousand times over, buried his tears under a grave of loneliness.

His heart clenched fiercely in his chest when he thought about it, so he put his headphones back on and picked another movie, _any_ movie; anything to distract him from the woman sleeping peacefully next to him.

The flashy action scenes took his mind off the subject of Amy Cahill.

He didn't get any sleep that night.

 _/_

December 24th 2015, 0816

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. We have just landed at Heathrow Airport, London. The time is now 8:16 am. The weather here is considerably cold, and the city is around 7°Celsius now, but is expected to rise…"

"God, I didn't pay for a bloody weather forecast."

The gravelly sound of Ian's voice woke Amy up, and blinking owlishly, she sat up very slowly, wrapping the thick blanket even tighter around her. Through sleep-crusty eyelids, she could see out of the plane window next to her. Her breath fogged on the cool surface, and as she blinked rapidly, trying to get the sleep out of her eyes, she saw…

Grey. And white. But mostly grey.

The runway was grey tarmac, but because it was so foggy, she couldn't see past a few hundred metres. The fog in question gave the atmosphere a gloomy touch, swooping over them in a ghostly fashion. Not to mention that it was _cold_. Amy shivered and pulled the woolly blanket up and around her shoulders.

A loud noise came from her right, and she whipped her head around to see what it was.

Ian.

She'd forgotten that she was travelling with someone. Sleep did that to her. She'd wake up completely disorientated, with no idea where she was or what she was supposed to do.

Amy continued staring at him. He hadn't noticed that she'd woken up. Swearing furiously under his breath, the Lucian fidgeted around – Ian Kabra was _fidgeting_ – in his seat, tugging relentlessly on the metal and cloth contraption also known as a plane seatbelt.

He groaned in frustration and flung his head back against the headrest, frowning in irritation. Dark smudges lined underneath his eyes completed the look, with a nice touch of huge eye bags that made Amy want to lean forward and smooth her thumb over them. The dark eyes weren't just from the flight. She _knew_.

Instead, she fought the urge and turned her head to the side, away from the tired Lucian who shouldn't have warranted her attention, but somehow did – every second; every minute; every hour.

Amy closed her eyes for a minute and a bit more, then yawned in fake-sleep, stretching up and above, exposing a small strip of skin when her shirt lifted. She'd be lying if she said she didn't want him to notice. The old Amy would have been so embarrassed. But she was a grown woman now and had been for quite some time.

"So," she said rather brightly to cover up her melancholy, "we're in London!"

He didn't say anything for a long time. Then, quiet and low, so quiet she almost missed it, "Yeah. We're in London."

He hesitated, and then didn't say anything else.

She didn't ask.

 _/_

They passed immigration easily. The second they were out, Amy whipped out her phone, speed-dialing to Dan. Tapping her foot impatiently on the smooth ground, she waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Dan! I just touched down in London."

" _London_?"

She bit her lip when Ian turned a glare on her. Right after agreeing to the mission and explaining all the conditions and other nooks and crannies of the agreement, Ian had insisted on one thing: she wasn't allowed to tell anybody. Not Dan, not Nellie, not Natalie. _Nobody_. Her temper had flared up instantly – who was _he_ to tell her to lie? – but she'd understood the logic. The fewer people who knew of the plan, the smaller the chance of exposure.

The Madrigal agent had to be high up in the hierarchy (how she hated that there was a hierarchy in the first place, but as Dan had pointed out, it helped to keep order) to have been able to steal M16 files without detection.

If anyone heard of what she and Ian were doing… well.

This would all have been for naught.

"Amy? Hello? Are you there?"

"What – oh yeah, right! I'm in London to sort out some Cahill business. You know that business Marie set up as a cover for the Cahill transactions?"

Marie, one of her most trusted confidantes, had proposed that idea. All four branches were in relatively good standing with one another, leading, of course, to the idea of mutual benefit. _"Like trading between countries"_ was how Marie had explained it. The trading business connected other cover businesses that represented the other branches. So far, it was working perfectly.

Their headquarters were in London, which was superbly convenient for Amy and Ian. They'd agreed beforehand on this cover.

"What? Is there something wrong with the business?"

"No, no – I just need to check on one of the databases there. Apparently some information was muddled up, but in case it was really sensitive, I wanted to go check it myself."

"Why couldn't you have just sent someone else to do it?"

 _Oh, Dan._ "Like I said, the information might be highly classified."

"But then you can't spend Christmas with us!"

She sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know, Dan. I'm so sorry, but this was really urgent."

She could hear his dejected tone. Thank _God_ he hadn't suspected anything. "Fine."

"Send my love to Nellie and Natalie. And pictures! Don't forget to send lots." She'd be damned if she couldn't, at least, see how they were spending Christmas. Ian flinched next to her at the mention of his little sister.

"Ugh. I hate you."

"I hate you too," replied Amy, a hint of fondness seeping through her words. Glancing at Ian and his hopeful face, she quickly added, "Tell Natalie I love her very much too."

"Sure."

"Bye, Dan, I'll talk to you later!"

Amy put her phone back in her pocket, heading for the luggage terminal. Ian didn't say anything, just lingering behind for a little while longer.

She felt his eyes burning on her back as he took a few quick, long strides to catch up with her. He swallowed twice, cleared his throat, and finally turned to speak to Amy.

"Thank you. For taking care of Natalie."

"It was my pleasure."

She meant it sincerely.

 _/_

 **A/N Massive thanks to** **RivalArgentica** **for helping me look this over.**

 **So sorry this took so long! One question: would you guys like a little more banter (as in the middle of this chapter) or more angst, like the last one?**


	3. Chapter 3

SCATTERED AMONG THE STARS

They're 26 and 25 years old when their paths cross again. Ian dropped below the radar and became an M16 agent while Amy became the Madrigal Branch Leader. When he discovers a rogue Madrigal stealing files from the M16, he seeks Amy out for her help. "So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"

Rated T for swearing and potentially **hinted** adult content later on.

CHAPTER 3

"We accept the love we think we deserve."

\- Stephen Chbosky, _The Perks of Being a Wallflower_

 _/_

The taxi ride to the apartment was unbearably awkward.

The full truth of what they were doing – or rather, what they were _going_ to do – hit Amy like a truck as she settled down in the cab. They were lying to their branches (well, she was, it didn't matter for Ian) because nobody would have let them go if they knew.

They might have, but the whole point of this mission would have been all but blown to hell: the most important part was that the mole in the Madrigal Branch didn't know about this. As far as anybody knew, Amy Cahill, the responsible Madrigal Leader, was going to go check on a database for the Cahills' cover company.

She'd done this before, which was why it wouldn't seem suspicious at all. But if somebody actually thought to _check_ …

They would be screwed before anything could be done. Amy would be denounced a traitor to her branch for helping an outcast Cahill – and a Lucian at that – and Ian, well. Ian would just be labelled as the kind of person to never trust; to never care for, because he was a monster without a heart or soul.

It made Amy sick just to think about it. She turned her head ever so slightly to watch her counterpart. The former Lucian in question was currently staring out of a window, hand resting gently on a smooth leather briefcase. The morning light caught on his features, sunbeams melting into his skin. His gaze stretched far; she had no idea what he was staring at, but there was a faraway look plastered on his face that told her she shouldn't disturb him.

He looked at _peace_.

She wondered how long it had been since he'd felt that way.

 _/_

"Well," Ian announced, "this is your home for the next month at least."

Amy dragged her suitcase out of the taxi trunk and glared at him. "Home sweet home, right?" she grumbled.

He laughed. They were both severely jetlagged (it was a bright and early 9 am in London compared to the 4 am it was in Boston back home right then) but the soft chuckle that came from Ian surprised her.

It made him younger. Smile lines so obviously out of practice crinkled perfectly in place, and his gaze became lighter, erasing him of the weight of the world. Dark smudges under his eyes lessened for just a moment.

So she told him. She'd never been one for hiding truths when they needed to be said. "You should laugh more," Amy threw over her shoulder as she entered the house. "Makes you look less like a seventy-year-old grandpa."

"A _seventy-year-old_ grandpa?!"

Everything felt so familiar Amy could've laughed and cried at the same time. "Come on, grandpa," she teased. "Stop hobbling. Do you need help with that suitcase?"

"Wha- no! _Amy!_ " he exclaimed exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air. "Honestly, is this what living with you for the next month or more going to be like? Because if so, honestly just –"

The door slammed in his face, and the loud _click!_ of the lock being turned reached him easily.

"Amy, I have the _keys_!"

Silence.

He dug a hand into his pocket. It came up empty.

" _Amy!_ "

 _/_

The silence that greeted Amy was comforting. It wasn't the kind that weighed heavily on one's shoulders. It was the kind that made you feel at home.

Amy set foot on the large carpet covering part of the living room floor. She sighed happily, rubbing the remaining sleep from her eyes. The carpet felt soft to the touch and had a high enough pile for her toes to grapple onto it comfortably.

Mumbling something unintelligible, Amy stretched her back and groaned, hitting lightly at the source of pain. She hated flying more than three hours at a time. _I'll just lie down for one moment,_ she thought drowsily. _One moment…_

She was out like a light in a second.

 _/_

"AMY!"

Ian wanted to scream. There was no response to anything he did because, for _God's sake_ , Amy had locked him out in his own house.

It was their house now, but Ian ignored that slight change in word choice and hammered again on the door. "AMY! Open the door!"

He couldn't be this loud. Amy's move-in was supposed to be subtle. They had to put on a convincing show of the traditional loving couple.

Ian rested his head on the door. It wouldn't be too hard on his end.

He lifted his head. _Come on, Ian_ , a voice goaded, _it looks too odd. Hurry up and get inside!_

Taking a lock pick out of his luggage, Ian swiftly opened the door, nervously checking if anybody was watching. He grabbed his luggage and pulled it in behind him, slamming the door as soon as man and luggage were in.

"Amy?"

No answer. His heart clenched in his chest.

He pushed his own paranoid fears to the back of his mind. She was probably listening to music or something. Nothing to worry about.

Still, he couldn't help it when he slowly picked up his walking speed, eventually full-out running when he reached the living room.

The vise-like grip on his heart released as he took a deep breath. She'd fallen asleep on the floor, next to the coffee table. Her body was contorted in a funny position to accommodate the large coffee table. It definitely wasn't comfortable.

He could've left her there. He could've walked straight back to his bedroom – _their_ bedroom – and waited it out. Tomorrow, life with normalcy would begin.

He didn't. He picked her up, bending down to settle her in his arms, and moved her onto the neighbouring couch. Pushing a pillow behind her, he grabbed a blanket with another arm and wrapped it gently around her.

Look at him. _The damaged helping the undamaged_ , he thought bitterly. _You don't deserve her. Not after what you've done. Not after you ran like the coward you are, leaving Natalie and everyone else behind. You miserable coward._

Ian blinked away tears that had begun to form, swallowing a sob that threatened to rise up and out of his throat. He'd hold on to this memory for as long as he could, and then a bit longer than that.

Oh, but _God_ , did it hurt.

 _/_

Amy woke up staring at a blank ceiling.

She stayed on the couch for a little while longer, shifting around until she finally got up, stretching as far as she could. She'd forgotten how good a nap could feel. Blearily, Amy, stumbled to the edge of the carpet, stepping gingerly onto the tiled floor. The cool floor was a shock, and curling her toes to walk, the Madrigal made her way to the stairs and peered up.

A small window allowed light to filter through, illuminating the wooden staircase. Amy checked her watch: it was 2 pm – she'd slept for almost four hours – and way past lunchtime.

She began walking up the staircase, running a hand over the smooth oak wood. It was beautifully intricate; endlessly perfect lines running across a dark umber surface that only accentuated the markings.

"Ian?"

She looked around. There were three rooms; one was open, the other she assumed was a bathroom. The third was tucked away in the corner of her vision, quiet and unassuming. Filing away a mental reminder to take a look at that later, she moved quickly across the floor to the room with the open door.

Ian was there, on the bed, lying down with his hands on the back of his head. The light moved and hit him then; Amy was reminded of how many girls had earned themselves a broken heart from this particular Kabra. Just like in the taxi, his expression was peaceful and relaxed. His long limbs stretched across the bed, legs almost – but not quite – reaching the end.

She must have stood like that for a while: staring, and then memorizing. Amy closed her eyes and leaned her head against the bed frame. The only sound came from Ian's steady breathing. She opened her eyes and walked over to the window, pulling the curtains shut. Light was still able to pass through, but only faintly.

Amy was acutely aware of everything in the room as she moved across the room and sat down next to the sleeping Lucian. The metronome of his breathing; the gentle creak of the bed when she shifted slightly; her own breathing, too loud for comfort. She was going to wake him up if she carried on like this. He wasn't a Lucian _and_ an M16 agent for nothing.

In fact, he was probably awake and laughing silently at her this very instant. Scowling straightaway, she brushed imaginary dust off her lap before standing with a rather loud groan of the bed springs. Cringing, she made to move toward the door when a hoarse voice stopped her.

"Afternoon."

"Afternoon." She hated the way her voice rose an octave in panic.

A long silence ensued. They had a lot of those, didn't' they? She still hadn't looked at him, instead staring at her salvation – also known as stairs – in front of her.

Finally, he broke the awkwardness.

"How do you feel about Vietnamese?"

 _/_

"So, this is where the great Ian Kabra fine-dines every night."

"Shut up," he growled, trying desperately to get the young waiter's attention. "It's Christmas Eve. This is one of the last places still open."

She smirked at him then, and shot back cheekily, "Maybe we should have started later."

Ian turned a glare on her. "Excuse me!" he hollered.

Over the hustle and bustle of the tiny Vietnamese restaurant, it was almost impossible to hear the person next to you, let alone the lone waiter four tables away.

Amy couldn't help it. She let out a small laugh, then quickly covered her mouth to hide her smile.

"What? What is it? Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Just… I never imagined you like this. Human. Normal. "

Ian ignored the painfully happy feeling that bloomed in his heart when she said, "I quite like you like this."

He couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, but he couldn't bring himself to stop smiling, either.

 _/_

 **A/N Sorry this took so long! (P.S. I'm going to have another terribly busy month ahead of me, so don't expect an update soon – although again, when do I ever update quickly?)**

 **I know this chapter was a bit shorter, but I thought you guys shouldn't have to wait any longer. Would you prefer shorter but quicker updates or longer chapters that take a longer time to update?**

 **Thought RivalArgentica deserved a break and a surprise :).**


	4. Chapter 4

SCATTERED AMONG THE STARS

They're 26 and 25 years old when their paths cross again. Ian dropped below the radar and became an M16 agent while Amy became the Madrigal Branch Leader. When he discovers a rogue Madrigal stealing files from the M16, he seeks Amy out for her help. "So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"

Rated T for swearing and potentially **hinted** adult content later on.

CHAPTER 4

"I'd give my all to have/Just one more night with you/I'd risk my life to feel/Your body next to mine

\- Mariah Carey, _My All_

 _/_

December 24th 2015, 1845

Ian stepped out of their home, tugging on his jacket to straighten it. Off he went to a Christmas party now. The ex-Lucian smiled at the thought. Surprisingly, he genuinely enjoyed the company of his colleagues and found them quite companionable. He'd worked with them for a little over a year now, and was considerably friendly with the five that he worked most frequently with.

They were always teasing him about Amy, who he'd talked about a little before "rushing off to propose to his one true love", as put so adequately by James Chen, a cheerful Chinese man in his late thirties who had instantly taken a liking to Ian the day he had first stepped foot in the office.

He'd picked this company because it seemed quite lax in comparison to others; wouldn't do too much background-digging, wouldn't make a big fuss if he was gone for extended periods of time on "vacation" – more like espionage work - but had told himself that he'd move in three or four months' time. He'd learned not to get attached to people when you were an ex-Cahill hiding from the extended family. Ian smiled grimly.

But his colleagues – no, _friends_ – had slowly weaseled their way into his heart and had somehow found it comfortable.

Sighing, he made his way to the Tube. Ten minutes later, he exited it and walked for a little while longer before stopping at a white building trimmed with olive green. Checking his watch, Ian pressed the button leading to the seventeenth floor before standing back and waiting. _1…2…3…_ The lift was unbelievably slow. He sighed and shifted his legs, rolling his eyes when the stupid thing paused at the eighth floor for absolutely no reason at all.

Absently, his thoughts shifted to a red-haired, green-eyed Madrigal Leader waiting for him at home. He shook his head and scolded himself sharply: _waiting at home? She's_ Amy _bloody_ Cahill _. She doesn't_ wait _for anyone._

He paused. Also, at _home?_

Nevermind that. The lift opened, and Ian stepped out, heading across the hall to Flat J. Shouts and screams could already be heard from behind the door, and the M16 agent smiled slightly.

He raised his hand and prepared to knock –

"IAN RICHARDS ELLIS, YOU ARE SEVERELY LATE."

Ian winced at the volume and terrible cover name (his initials actually spelled _IRE,_ honestly, what kind of names was that?) assigned to him by the M16. He'd have to remember to tell Amy about it in case she ever had to meet one of his colleagues, which she would probably have to do at some point later on in this deception.

"Good evening, James, and I do believe you are severely drunk. It is, in fact," he told the man, "precisely four minutes past seven. The designated time was seven-fifteen, so I am not late. You are all early," he shouted past James into the living room.

Loud peals of laughter drifted over to him, and Ian smiled while taking his shoes off.

"Ian! Hurry, we're playing this thing called Wii Sports or something of the like, and I'm losing terribly – play for me, would you?" Patricia, a middle-aged woman who had somehow made it her pastime to mother Ian the day he'd stepped into the office, patted him on the back and gave him the remote.

Ian stared at the white thing and then stared at Patricia, before staring back at the remote again. The woman had already moved to the kitchen to help Maybelline with the cooking, and probably to pour herself another glass of wine. Honestly, out of the five colleagues he worked with, three of them were practically alcoholics.

Sighing, Ian sat down on the dusty blue couch. "Evening, Tom."

Tom was the youngest of the group, fresh out of university. He'd joined not long after Ian had, always a cheerful, youthful smile on his face. He was a bit naïve, but he brought lightness to the group.

"Oh – hey, Ian! Did James greet you?"

"Yes, he did. He's rather drunk, isn't he?" Both of them turned to look at said drunken man, who was currently talking to a wall.

"Five pounds says he'll have to go home around nine," said Tom, and Ian looked back at him with a grin on his face.

"I'll take it – I bet he goes home at eleven."

"Oh, you're on!"

They settled into an easy camaraderie, punctuated by loud snorts of laughter covered up quickly courtesy of Grayson, the last person at the party. Grayson was perhaps a few years older than Ian, and had been the last person to become close to him, but Grayson was slow and steady, always there with an awkward compliment if you did things right, or a gruff "it's alright" if you didn't.

The house was soon filled with easygoing conversations, sprinkled with giggles and laughter and warm smiles.

Ian felt at _home_.

 _/_

"Dan!" Amy shifted around on the sofa, making herself comfortable.

"Hi, Amy!" Dan grinned on the screen, waving a hand. "Nellie! Natalie! We set it up! Come say hi to Amy!"

Footsteps pounded quickly before Natalie's face suddenly appeared on the screen. "Good evening, Amy! How's England?"

Amy smiled. "Hello, Natalie. England's great! Cold, but still awesome."

"AMY!" Nellie appeared onscreen, and Amy found herself looking at all three of them. "Is the food good?"

The Madrigal leader laughed. "It's fine," she replied assuringly, "I haven't really tried anything truly English, but I'm planning to tomorrow."

Just as Dan was about to speak, Natalie cut in over him. "Amy," she said slowly, "that coat behind you. Is it yours?"

Amy froze before turning around to look at the coat on the coat hanger behind her. "What? Oh, that coat," she started awkwardly, "it's – it's not mine! A friend from the Trade centre came over for lunch today, and she left her coat by accident."

Natalie frowned. "But those letters on the pocket, in gold thread – they look like –" she hesitates "- they look like my brother's initials. Ian." Suspicion began to bleed into her voice.

Amy struggled to control her breathing, pasting a brilliant smile on her face when she turned back around. Natalie was right: there _were_ monogrammed initials on the coat pocket, and they said 'I.K'. The redhead said brightly, "Nope, it says 'M.F'."

Great, that looked _nothing_ like 'I.K'.

"Is it Marie's?" Oh, Dan. If only.

Laughing nervously, Amy nodded profusely. Cursing herself internally – she was an absolutely horrible liar – she added, "Yup. Marie Fontaine."

Quickly, Amy shifted against, this time angling herself so that the computer camera pointed to the window. "Anyway, you guys okay there without me?"

Dan made an indignant noise, Nellie looked downright insulted, and even Natalie laughed. "What do you mean by _that_?" Dan demanded, crossing his arms.

"Dan, the last time you and Natalie were in the house by yourselves, the house was a mess when we came back. I was finding apples in the cereal boxes _weeks_ after that."

"Hey, this time, we have Nellie with us! We're fine."

"Okay then." The conversation came to an abrupt stop after Nellie left to go back to the kitchen.

Amy felt the guilt eating away at her. "Dan, I need to go." Lies. All lies.

"So quickly?"

"Yeah, I just… got stuff to do, y'know. Running a Branch and all that." Amy gave him a weak smile.

"Er.. okay then. Talk later?"

"STOP BOTHERING HER, DAN!" Amy laughed softly when Dan's expression became annoyed. She could see him gearing up for another argument.

"Well, jeez, Miss I'm So Perfect, why don't _you_ ever 'bother your brother'? Hm? Oh, wait! That's because he's _not here_!"

Natalie looked like she'd taken a punch to the gut. Amy frowned. "Dan. Stop it."

"Fine. I still don't understand why you can't spend Christmas with us."

"I'm busy, okay!" Annoyance overflowed into her voice. Dan and Natalie stared at her.

Amy rubbed a hand over her face. "Sorry – just a bad day. I'll talk to you guys later?"

"Yeah, sure. Bye, Amy." The connection was lost.

Amy slammed the computer screen down. She hated this. She hated herself for ever agreeing.

She needed to tell someone.

 _/_

"Ian?"

The ex-Lucian started suddenly, startled at the sound. "Amy?"

He turned around from locking the door securely to look at the sofa. The room was washed in a blue light, the only sound coming from the television; soft, inaudible mutterings.

She was sitting there.

Her head was tipped back against the headrest of the sofa, eyes closed. The elegant curve of her neck was smooth, enticing… the urge to press a kiss there was overwhelming.

"Why are you still up so late?" asked Ian, moving to sit on the sofa. He left his shoes on the mat in front of the shoe cupboard, feet padding gently against the floor. The sofa sank down when he sat.

Amy didn't answer. Her head lolled slightly to the side, her slender frame leaning towards him. Too slender. The stress and strain of being Branch Leader looked like it was taking a heavy toll on her. Dark smudges under her eyes were more pronounced than he remembered.

Ian checked his watch: it was half-past twelve in the morning, December 25th. It was officially Christmas in England.

Silence wrapped them like a warm blanket. It wasn't uncomfortable. It rarely was with her.

Silence had been his closest friend when he'd first left the Cahills, and it had been a good companion for the two years that he'd hidden away.

The M16 agent sighed, breaking his own train of thought. "Amy?" He prodded her arm cautiously.

"Forget it. I'll tell you in the morning." The words were spoken so softly he might have missed it had she not been so close. _Hold on,_ close _?_

Looking down, Ian found himself acutely aware of the lack of space between them. Somehow – perhaps when he had been thinking so deeply – the Madrigal Head had moved towards him, most probably because he was warmer than the sofa.

He froze when she sighed and then moved closer to him. Her nose was now buried in the fabric of his shirt, her fingers grasping onto it like a child would. Her crimson hair spilled down, the light emitting from the television catching on it like a star from far away.

His heart pounded, clenching painfully. What a fool he was for picturing them like this every day for the rest of their lives, when they were old and frail and grey-haired with children and grandchildren – the grandest scheme of life.

Growing old with her was a luxury even Ian Kabra could not afford. Especially now, he thought rather dryly.

Still, he couldn't help the tender note creeping into his tone when he whispered, "Good night, Amy Cahill." He moved away, leg slipping from the couch as he tried not to move her as best he could. Ian placed a hand on her cheek, shifting it up the slightest bit to slip a cushion underneath it. This was the second time she'd fallen asleep on his – their – couch, and he found it slightly amusing. There was a perfectly good bed upstairs, and he was willing to give it to her, no argument at all.

He went to bed wishing she were next to him.

 _/_

December 25th 2015, 0930

"Good morning, Ian."

"Hm?" He blinked blearily, raising his head from the pillow and looking towards where the sound had come from.

When he saw what – or rather, _who_ – it was, his heart stopped in his chest.

She was leaning against the doorframe, her hair an absolute mess. The sunlight hit her in just the right way; shades of marigold and fire and sangria tumbling down, looping around and around, little hairs dancing about. Her arms were crossed, with a small smile on her face.

He almost forgot to reply. "Good morning, Amy."

Her tone brightened all of a sudden, and she cried, "It's Christmas!"

Ian winced at the sharp sound but kept smiling nonetheless. "Yes, I suppose it is," he replied, sitting straight up against the headboard while he pulled the white sheets around him. The air was a bit colder than expected.

Grinning, Amy sat down on the bed across him, slipping her legs into the covers. "It's way colder than I expected," she announced, the corners of her mouth lifting again. "Seriously, we're going to need to buy thicker covers than this. There's only one bed, so we're going to have to share, Mr Kabra," she teased.

He struggled to keep the happiness out of his voice when he spoke.

"Of course," he said.

 _/_

Breakfast was an easy affair at first.

Neither of them said a word as they moved around each other to and from the kitchen. Ian raised his mug, drinking his coffee, eating a classic English breakfast. Across him, Amy ate her sandwich while reading the English newspaper. The quiet was disturbed only by the gentle clinking of cutlery on plates, and the quiet flipping of Amy's newspaper.

They both finished in twenty minutes. Borrowing the specific page from Amy, Ian began filling in the crossword with a pen. Amy sighed and put down the newspaper before speaking. "Ian, I need to tell someone about this mission."

He stared at her. "Absolutely not." Ian tried to keep his temper in check. "You and I both agreed that it was for security's sake we'd keep this between us. Now you're trying to convince me to tell someone?"

Amy sat up straighter. "I know I agreed to total secrecy before, but word's going to get around the network eventually that I'm at the Trade Centre because of an issue, but when they check _for_ an issue, the cover's going to be blown completely because there isn't an issue at all!"

Ian rubbed his face with a hand. "Why didn't you bring this up before? What if we have to stop because of this? We've only been here for a few days, Amy!"

"I just want to tell Marie! You know, the director of the Trade Centre? She's one of my closest friends, and I trust her."

"Sure, like I trusted my Lucian advisors. Look where that got me."

"We are not going to argue about that."

"Fine. Let's talk about your friend – Marie. How do we know we can trust her?"

"Because _I_ trust her! All the people around me I check thoroughly. Marie's clean. I promise."

Ian glared at her and set his hands down on the table between them. "Just because she was trustworthy before doesn't mean she's trustworthy now."

Amy returned the angry stare. "I've worked with her for years ever since I took over the position of Madrigal Head. I trust her."

"Alright – let's say Marie's to be trusted. How do we know the rogue isn't working with someone on the inside?"

"I _refuse_ to believe someone on the inside betrayed me." She was going to regret this later, but damn it, she was a twenty-five year old woman with her own pride.

"Now you're just being naïve. This is exactly what almost got you killed during the Clue Hunt."

"Oh, we're going _there_ , now are we?"

Ian didn't say anything for a while, and Amy settled back into her seat, satisfied that she'd won. She began to prepare what she was going to say to Marie, when suddenly he said:

"When we're betrayed and found out, brought to trial and hated by everyone, then I'll say 'I told you so'."

God, she'd forgotten how angry he could make her. Fine, so he made a convincing argument.

She realized suddenly that this was their very first proper argument.

Somehow, the notion didn't sit quite well with her.

She'd fallen out of love with him a while ago, perhaps during the two years he'd been gone. Sure, she was still attracted to him, but she was no longer _quite_ in love with him.

Amy hoped to God she wouldn't do that again.

She didn't want to go through that process a second time.

He would probably break her heart anyway.

 _/_

Amy took a step into the one room she hadn't been in since their arrival. After the argument, they hadn't spoken to each other, but for the job's sake, Amy had swallowed her pride and asked what the room with the closed door was for.

Ian had replied by walking upstairs with Amy following behind him cautiously. Unlocking the door deftly, he'd pushed the door open and walked into it, leaving Amy to go in after him. She looked around, taking it in: equipment of all shapes and sizes were arranged neatly on a few tables, and there was one table that was empty save for a lamp and some pens and papers. Each of the computer screens showed different images: one was their own front door; another was a view she recognized: looking across to the rogue's home; one was of an unlit office room – it was Ian's office, she realized. The last one she didn't recognize but saw rows and rows of what looked like bookshelves.

Ian saw her looking. "The M16 database," he explained. "I snuck in there with faked security clearance and installed a camera."

She turned her head over her shoulder to give him a wry smile. "Lucians will be Lucians."

At that, he cracked a smile, and the awkwardness lingering from their previous disagreement evaporated.

Amy moved to the table holding a neat pile of papers with a photograph of a face paper-clipped to the top of it. "Who's this?"

Ian came up behind her. "That's the rogue," he said, "taken from our window." He took the sheaf of papers from her. "This," he continued, pointing at a second photograph, "is from the M16 database."

"Why can't you just identify him using the M16 database, then?"

"He's a Madrigal, he probably has, at least, some Ekaterina blood in him. I suspect he faked his name to get into it."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't have the money or resources. Oh, that reminds me," he added, "I have a cover name given to me by M16. Don't laugh," he warned.

"Is there a reason to?"

"Ian Richards Ellis."

"Oh, that's _terrible_." Amy tried her best to cover up a giggle that escaped, quickly turning into a snort when he looked slightly annoyed.

"Anyway," she laughed, "we need to run this through the Madrigal database." She pointed at the photograph of the rogue's face.

She paused. "We have a problem."

"Already?"

She ignored him. "I can't run it through the database. _I_ can't do it. It'll flag as me, and someone will see it and find out. We have a crystal clear system for all Branch Leaders," she clarified, "and that means that neither Sinead or Hamilton can do it."

"What kind of system?"

"All my searches can be accessed by other Branch Leaders. It's part of the peace thing we tried, set up after you left."

"Oh, that's bloody _brilliant_! What kind of system is that?!"

"A good one."

"What if you need to keep something secret, and only you as a Branch Leader can know?"

"That's the point: it prevents conflict. If the other Branch Leaders know that there's a dangerous secret they need to keep to themselves – meaning they can't ask the people below them to do it – they know that the other Branch Leaders will know. Then they won't try to dig past this secret."

"What if it's life-threatening?"

"Then the other Branch Leaders need to know."

"That's _ridiculous_."

"So it's a little complicated. Maybe a little too trusting, but isn't that what we need?"

"It's a stupid system and you know it."

"We haven't had any problems so far," Amy protested. "It doesn't matter – what _does_ matter is getting someone to run this picture through the database for us."

Ian sighed in frustration. "You're trying to bring this back to Marie, aren't you?"

"Clever boy."

"Why can't you just ask Dan?"

"Absolutely not. I don't want him entangled in this. If what we're doing really gets out and we're both tried for treason, then, at least, Dan won't get in trouble."

When Ian didn't say anything, she turned the conversation back to where she needed it. "So…? Marie it is?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. Marie it is."

Amy grinned. "I'll talk to her tomorrow in person. It might not be safe to do it over the phone."

Ian rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you."

She grinned again, moving past him towards the door. "I can't believe I convinced you, too," she singsonged on the way out.

He couldn't really help the smile on his face.

 _/_

 **A/N Three thousand four hundred and sixty-five words of actual content, guys. The longest chapter, and probably most plot-heavy. Sort of. I'm trying to move to the plot more quickly, but I'm still establishing characters, reasons – ugh. Planning's the hardest part: I want to give a good surprise, but I discovered a major plot hole and now I have to rewrite the whole actual important parts of the plot. Extra-long chapter because I'm going to have to work on the plan and THEN it'll be exams soon and obviously I won't have time to write.**

 **Didn't send this to Rival Argentica because I wanted to get it to you guys ASAP. Editing is terrible on this chapter, please forgive me!**

 **Also, massive thanks to everyone who reviewed so far. Keep them coming! Great fuel for writing.**


	5. Chapter 5

SCATTERED AMONG THE STARS

They're 26 and 25 years old when their paths cross again. Ian dropped below the radar and became an M16 agent while Amy became the Madrigal Branch Leader. When he discovers a rogue Madrigal stealing files from the M16, he seeks Amy out for her help. "So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"

Rated T for swearing and potentially **hinted** adult content later on.

CHAPTER 5

"We'll run where lights won't chase us/Hide where love can save us/I will never let you go

\- Zedd ft. Matthew Koma, _Spectrum_

 _/_

December 25th 2015, 2035

A knock sounded from outside the door. Amy called out, "Enter!" without looking up from her book.

Ian appeared, sticking his head into the room. "I need to tell you something."

Amy frowned. "This isn't about Marie, is it? I'm still waiting for her to run the check. She's a little busy now, but she promised me she'd get it to me by tomorrow."

She and Ian had agreed to tell Marie Fontaine about what they were doing. It was risky, but necessary all the same. They needed someone to cross-check a photograph of the rogue Ian had taken the last time he'd seen the man. Marie was one of Amy's closest confidantes and second only to Amy herself and the other Branch Leaders in the Cahill hierarchy. Amy trusted her.

Now if only Ian would, too.

The agent in question shook his head. "No," he said, rolling his eyes a little bit, "not about that. Although I am rather desperate for those results."

"It's going to take time, Ian," she replied. "Give her a while. Besides, we still have to collect evidence, right? Don't forget the whole purpose of this mission in the first place."

"Alright. We won't talk about that anymore."

"Good." Amy sat up straighter, adjusting her reading glasses – yes, reading glasses. She'd realized that she needed them to see properly after one of the annual Cahill Trade reports when people actually working there as Heads of Departments were required to give a summary of that year's achievements, milestones reached, things to be improved. That sort of thing.

Amy had had to squint at the electronic board for the entire meeting because all she could see was blobs of writing and occasional words.

So she'd gotten glasses. Dan had laughed. Very, very loudly.

Amy blinked, tearing herself away from the thoughts. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Ian's expression suddenly changed to look like he was… nervous? Her brow creased. Ian and nervous rarely went in the same sentence together, and certainly not to describe him.

The Madrigal set down her book. "Just spit it out," she commanded, raising one eyebrow.

"Well… you see… I just _might_ have invited my colleagues over for dinner on New Year's Eve?" His voice trailed off questioningly, a sheepish note slipping into his tone.

Amy gaped at him. "What? Who's going to cook?"

Ian swallowed. "I also might have told them that you're going to cook."

"How many?"

"Five. Including us, seven."

Amy threw her hands up in exasperation. "Ian, I can barely cook for two, let alone _seven_. I'm going to give them food poisoning."

The M16 agent held his hands up cautiously in appeasement. "Don't worry," he soothed. "We can get someone to come help you do the actual cooking beforehand. All we need to do is buy the ingredients. That can't be too hard, right?" He gave her the most hopeful grin she'd ever seen on his face.

Amy glared at him.

He shifted around awkwardly.

After a long moment, Amy sighed. "Fine, I'll do it," she acquiesced wearily. "As long as…" An interesting thought occurred to her. She smirked. "As long as that 'someone' who is going to help me is Marie."

Ian stared at her and groaned. "You're not serious."

"Oh, but I am." It was her turn to grin now, a full-fledged beam that emanated satisfaction. "She already knows. Why shouldn't I invite her up here?"

"Telling her what's going on is one thing. Inviting her to actively take part in this ruse is a whole different matter!"

"Technically, she's already ' _actively involved_ '," Amy threw back. "She's doing the search for us. I'm pretty sure that qualifies as ' _actively involved_ '."

Ian scowled. "If she comes here, there will be much more solid evidence that she is part of this. The search is like you said," he continued, putting a hand up to stop Amy from speaking, "untraceable. Only the Branch Leaders' searches are. It's difficult to hide evidence that one travelled to a specific place, Amy," he explained. "Photographs, travel cards – they're all too easy to track."

"She's my second-in-command," Amy argued. "Don't you think she'd know how to cover up her tracks?"

Ian was still glowering.

The Madrigal sighed. "Besides, I'm supposed to be here sorting out Cahill business, right?" she reminded. "If anyone does ask questions, I can just say that she came to pay a visit to a friend. No harm done."

His expression was still sour, but in a tone that showed oh-so-obviously that he was extremely reluctant, Ian agreed. "Fine," he grumbled.

Amy smiled, leaning back against the headrest. "Good, then," she said simply. "All settled. We just need to come up with some recipes and then head to the supermarket. We can do that on the day before New Year's Eve. It'll be fresher like that. Tastes better."

Ian didn't provide an argument. Instead, he said, "When are you going to start working?"

Amy blinked at him in confusion. Then she paused. "Work!"

A small smile teased the corner of his lips. "Yes, Amy," he said dryly, "work. It's not fun and games here. I actually need to go to work at the office like normal people."

Amy rolled her eyes. Right. The plan had been to make her his office assistant – she had no doubt that he probably did have a lot of work to do, but it still seemed odd to her. "Shouldn't we think this through first?" she asked. "It seems a little strange to me. I don't know any stockbrokers who have assistants."

He laughed. "Nobody ever said I couldn't," he told her. "Besides, I've already slipped in our beautiful love story. Once my colleagues figure out that we're married, they'll automatically think that another motive in making you my assistant is because I want to spend more time with you."

"I'm not that kind of person. I don't think I can pull it off, Ian," she explained. "How about this: we change up the schedule a little. I'll go to the Trade Centre every other day, and be your assistant for the rest. It seems more like… me," Amy reasoned.

Ian didn't say anything for a while, his expression pensive and deep in thought. "That works," he muttered while looking down at the floor. Suddenly, his gaze shot straight back up.

"We need to start planning," he told her urgently. "There isn't much time left – I think you can be away for two months without raising any suspicions."

"Two months is a little sceptic, Ian," she replied warily.

He stepped closer, sitting down at the edge of the bed. He didn't look at her, choosing instead to look at the plain white wall opposite of him. The sharp lines and angles of his side profile faced her. "Take a month's leave off. Plus another month to work at the Trade Centre, we have two."

She stared at him in astonishment. "I'm the Branch Leader. We don't get vacations, let alone one whole month."

He turned to face her completely. "Yes, you can."

"Of course I can't – " Her protests were cut off short.

"Yes, you can," he repeated confidently. "Have Dan step in for a little. Tell them it's to prepare him for when you retire and he takes over."

Irritation stirred up within Amy. "I told you, we're not bringing Dan into this," she snapped. "And anyway, it won't make sense. I was never going to have Dan succeed me anyway. He doesn't want it, and by the time I retire, he'll be around retiring age, too."

"Your branch loves you," Ian protested. "They do, and you know it."

She still hesitated. Ian let out a sound of frustration. "We have to do this, Amy. There will never be peace. Ever. Not if we don't catch this man. We have to."

She got up without another word, and Ian tried his very best not to slump in defeat, choosing instead to stare unblinkingly at white sheets of the bed.

Before she left, Amy turned to face him. Ian raised his gaze to look at her. She swallowed down the unfathomable sorrow at the look on his face.

"Have to, or want to?"

He didn't reply. Maybe he didn't want to.

 **A/N I apologize for the wait, and the impending one. I will be unable to write until early June. There are so many plot issues with this fic I need to sort it all out, along with the hectic schedules and deadlines of my personal life. This chapter was supposed to be way longer, but due to a guest reviewer reviewing again, asking for an update, I felt pretty despicable.**

 **I am not giving up on this story, and if I do, I will tell you. Please accept my apology.**


	6. Chapter 6

SCATTERED AMONG THE STARS

They're 26 and 25 years old when their paths cross again. Ian dropped below the radar and became an M16 agent while Amy became the Madrigal Branch Leader. When he discovers a rogue Madrigal stealing files from the M16, he seeks Amy out for her help. "So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"

Rated T for swearing and potentially **hinted** adult content later on.

CHAPTER 6

December 26th 2015, 1040

The doorbell rang loudly, a cheerful tone that broke the silence settling over the house. Ian had already gone to work, leaving the house at around seven-thirty in the morning. Amy glanced up at the digital clock in surprise. As far as she knew, they weren't expecting anybody. She was supposed to go to the Trade Centre later on in the afternoon, to keep up her cover and to meet with Marie. The cross-check of the photograph should have been done by now.

Placing the newly-washed dish onto the countertop, she wiped her hands on a nearby cloth, moving across the wooden floors silently. A hand reached for the secret weapon hidden behind a craftily-disguised panel on the wall. One push of a button would present the steel and chrome in second.

Ever quiet, Amy looked through the doorhole with one eye. Outside, a brunette waited impatiently, tapping her foot on the porch. "Amy?" she called.

Quickly, the Madrigal in question swung open the door. "Marie?" she exclaimed in surprise, reaching out to hug her friend. "You're not supposed to be here yet! I thought the arrangement was to meet at three at the Trade Centre?"

Marie smiled. "I thought I might pop over for a visit and save us both the trouble. Isn't it easier to keep this all under wraps if we just do everything at home?"

Amy frowned, leaning against the doorframe. Her hair tumbled down messily from a bun atop her head. London was absolutely freezing in December, and right now, dressed only in a sweater and long pants, she decided to move back into the warmth of their radiator-heated house. "How would you like to have this conversation inside?"

Marie laughed. "I thought you'd never ask."

Amy stepped aside to allow her fellow Madrigal to move in, glancing quickly outside to see if anyone had seen and identified them. Although truthfully, if they knew who she and Marie really were, chances were that they'd probably have the common sense to watch from afar.

Closing the door behind them, Amy followed her friend into the kitchen, taking the coat off of the grateful brunette and hanging it by the door. Marie took off her knitted cap as well, running a hand through her locks with a relieved sigh.

Amy moved through the kitchen deftly, making them both a mug of hot chocolate. She'd be damned if this weather didn't constitute an excuse to have the delicious drink.

The two Madrigals chatted excitedly as they sat down in the living room, Amy sinking into the sofa with a sigh, two hands gripping her mug. "Any news?"

Marie didn't say anything. Reaching into her briefcase lying on the floor at her foot, she pulled out a brown manila envelope. Still silent, she passed it to Amy.

Amy took the envelope and set it down on the coffee table. Returning to her seat on the sofa, she curled up comfortably and tucked her feet underneath her. "Anything of particular interest? Something I need to look at immediately? I'll be here a while, so I might as well just read it later."

Marie shrugged. "Depends on how you look at it."

Amy leaned forward, still holding on to her mug precariously. She kept her voice carefully void of emotion, landing on a clear neutrality. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Marie looked around furtively. "You mentioned a partner."

Amy tensed. "Yes," she answered tentatively. "So?"

"You said… you said his name was Ian."

"Yes." Amy almost narrowed her eyes before realising how suspicious that would have looked. Instead, she chose to reaarange her hot chocolate, shifting her position on the couch.

She resisted the urge to groan. She was going to have to tell Ian about this, and if Marie really couldn't accept that she was working with Ian Kabra, a Lucian – well, a Lucian _traitor_ – then they were going to have a problem.

But maybe this time his traitory would be useful, Amy thought rather dryly. After all, who better to run a secret almost-kind-of-not-really conspiracy with than a cleverly artful Lucian?

Marie looked slightly scared. No, not scared, Amy corrected. Worried. "I've looked it up. His name, I mean," the brunette clarified. "There are so many Ians in the database. I don't think he's Madrigal, because otherwise you wouldn't need me at all. That still leaves too many possibilities."

This time, Marie was the one who moved forward, her eyes still scanning the room. Amy followed her gaze and found no pattern to it. "But?" prodded the redhead.

Marie turned back to Amy. "But the photo you sent me is from an M16 database."

Amy froze. A chill ran down her spine. Quiet ringing sounded until white noise filled her ears. She forced down an overwhelming surge of panic. "How did you know?"

Marie was watching her carefully, eyes tracking her every movement. "You can't send me a photo and then not expect me to find out a little more about where it was taken."

Amy slumped. Well, no point in hiding anything now. "You're right. Any conclusions?" Damn, she'd been hoping to be the only link between Marie and Ian. The former should never have known about Ian. A little voice started nagging at the back of her head. _Too innocent. Too trustworthy. Guillible. Naïve._ A roar of anger coursed through her, before Amy realized that the only person she was mad at was herself.

"Your partner's Lucian. Isn't he?"

Amy licked her lips. Cleared her throat. Twisted her hands together. "Yes."

"I did my research, plus I added up all the old rumours from a few years ago."

The Madrigal leader's throat locked.

"People say that you and the old Lucian leader – "

"That we what?" Amy snapped, crisp words spat out. "That we _what_? _What_?"

"I think you know."

The silence that stained the air afterwards was impermeable. Seconds ticked by loudly.

Amy's heart raced. Her pulse jittered so quickly, she could hear her own blood rushing through her ears. No. The guard that had alerted her to Ian's presence only four nights ago would never had said anything. She'd cleared the security videos, made sure that anybody and everybody who saw them wouldn't breathe a word.

Marie hesitated, then ploughed on. "It's Ian Kabra. Isn't it." The question became a statement.

Amy's heart sank. The game was out. Better Marie than anybody else, right?

Better Marie than Dan. Right?

She cleared her throat. "Surprise?"

Marie groaned and put her head in her hands.

December 26th 2015, 1900

" _No! Oh, my God! How could you!"_

" _Sarah, no, I promise you – it's not what it looks like – trust me!"_

" _I trusted-"_

Keys tumbled in a door lock, click-swish-clanging, and the door swung open with a gentle creak. Footsteps pressed down on the floor, and the door was closed quietly. The sounds came closer.

"Amy? Where are you? Could you turn off the bloody television?"

What? What time was it? Amy sat up and blinked blearily at the digital clock on the wall. It blinked back at her cheerily in green LED letters. _17:00_. She groaned internally. "Here." Her voice was pathetically weak. She cleared her throat. "Here," she tried again. She heard him hanging up his coat on the rack and turned around from her spot on the sofa.

"Did you fall asleep?" A hint of laughter bled into his voice. In her sleepy stupour, Amy thought she saw little smile lines appear on his face. The sofa sank down happily as he sat next to her, putitng his briefcase carefully on the coffee table. "Tired?"

She yawned, and then blinked at him (again). "Yes. Catching up on all my lost sleep from when I was Branch Leader. I'm supposedly on leave, remember?" she teased playfully, leaning towards him unconciously.

Ian's laugh was rich and smooth; warm chocolate on a cold winter's evening. She hoped he wouldn't stop talking. He reached for the television remote; turned the volume down. "I remember." He watched her carefully, sweeping his gaze down from her bush-hair to her curled-up toes, her frame wrapped around the sofa pillow as she rested her head on the sofa arm.

"How was your day?" she asked. "Oh, and Marie brought the photos over already. I haven't looked at them yet," she told him.

He nodded absently, eyes tracing her form. "Today was… okay. It was good, I suppose."

Never in a million _years_ could he have imagined how intimate they could be. Not like this, certainly. Quiet. Slow. Amber light from the dining table fixture washed everything into pure gold. The wind pushed against the windows. It was dark outside. Indigo-navy blues filled the sky. It was cold, too, Ian thought. His heavy coat had barely been enough to ward off the cold. But it was warm here, here at home.

With Amy.

Tenderness bloomed in his heart when he looked at her. He stared until he thought it was highly improper to do so anymore, and tore his gaze away, staring instead at a dark corner of the house, where the warmth of the light couldn't reach. It was still. Hushed. The television mumbled some soothingly white noise, and the sounds of their breathing filled the air.

"It's Boxing Day today," he said out loud, breaking the quiet.

She sat up a little. Pushed herself onto one elbow. Gave him a wan, little smile. Oh, how she'd missed him. "I know. Did you get anything from your colleagues?"

He turned to face her again, leaning back into the sofa. He looked tired, she observed, with dark smudges under his eyes. His back relaxed. The creases between his brows smoothened. When he spoke again, she was reminded once more of how he'd once been Ian Kabra, the object of every single teenage girl's crush at some point in time. His voice was silken sin, velvet darkness, like dark chocolate, smoothed out in thick, heavy layers. His eyes though fatigued, still had their usual charismatic glint.

When he spoke, she thought she might pass out had she not been practically lying down already. "No. But I got _you_ something."

Nervously, she sat up a little straighter. "What is it?" God, she hoped she didn't sound too eager. _Honestly, Amy,_ she scolded herself, _this is not the time to get presents from someone! You have a job! A. JOB. J-O-B. SERIOUSLY. DECLINE IT. NOW. DE. CLINE._

He reached behind him, arm going behind the sofa and taking something with a rustle. With a flourish, he presented a small pink bag to her. "Ta-dah."

"Oh, no, I couldn't _possibly_." _Screw it. Just take it. It looks good._

"Oh, no, but you _definitely_ could. Here." He set the bag down in between them. Ian looked fully awake now, tiredness bleached from his features altogether as he looked for her reaction. "I think you'll like it, my _wife_."

She almost flinched at that, and then caught herself. _Ai, damn, I'd forgotten about that. Argh. This is going to take some getting used to._ "What a kind husband." Her words carried the same half-mocking tone he'd used.

"You're welcome."

Amy narrowed her eyes at him, pulling the bag towards her. With her hands on the opening of the bag, she kept her gaze on him and then smirked. Without looking, she tore open the bag. His smile widened.

For a full five seconds, they stared at each other. Then Amy gave up and looked down.

And down.

And down.

"IAN KABRA! You think you're hilarious, don't you?"

"What? Isn't it practical?" he sniggered. "It _is_ useful. We need it, don't we? It's important to keep our ruse up, especially when my colleagues come over."

Amy glared at him. "Yes, because _everybody_ puts their _wedding certificates_ out when their friends come over."

"Maybe we just love each other _soooo_ much."

She huffed. "Don't be immature."

He moved. So quickly, she didn't even see him get up from the sofa. Then he was suddenly so close, almost too close, his breath ghosting on her skin. "I'm many things," he told her quietly, bracing himself over her as she stared up at him from her spot on the sofa, "but I'm _hardly_ immature."

She looked up at him, eyes wide. Her fingers tightened their grip on her pillow. Her breath came a little shorter.

Sometimes a boy is just a boy. A girl is just a girl. A house, just a house.

The night dragged on. It darkened to inky blackness until the only light that could be seen at all from outside was that of the little houses. Christmas had just passed. Butter warm light passed through windows until it became a blurry little patch that glowed like a gentle torch burning in the night.

Calling you home.

 **A/N I have nothing to say. I'm sorry. Practically no plot, but a little more interaction never hurts. Perhaps this makes me a liar, but I can no longer stay as dedicated to this story. I have too much on my plate. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I will try to finish this story before I go to university, but… I can't guarantee you anything, and that makes me the worst kind of author. That said, this obviously isn't the last chapter – I have LOTS more planned, but whether I can write them – if I have the heart to – isn't definite. I'm sorry. I will try, though. Rest assured that I will** _ **try**_ **.**


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